


Cake and Death

by darklyndsea



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Not a Crossover, Tumblr Prompt, cake decorator AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklyndsea/pseuds/darklyndsea
Summary: Lucas meant for his cakes to be used for good, not for evil.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



Lucas had never planned to be a baker. Admittedly, he’d never _planned_ to be anything, per se; he’d gone through life waiting for something to look interesting enough to devote the rest of his life to. For a time he thought that would be his horror movies, but then his aunt had forced him to help her decorate a cake for his mom’s birthday.

Surprisingly, all those hours learning how to make fake scars and apply just the right amount of fake blood in just the right way had transferred over to cake decorating. Everybody else thought he was crazy for thinking that, but it was true; they just didn’t have the experience to know. Regardless of what anybody thought the source of his skills was, they couldn’t deny that he could decorate a cake like nobody’s business. Now he and his aunt co-owned the bakery, which even this early was more successful than Lucas had ever dared to dream.

Today he was manning the front. It was supposed to be John, the guy they’d hired so that they could spend all their time actually making cakes rather than talking to customers, but he hadn’t bothered to come in to work today. He hadn’t even called to pretend he was sick! Rude. It had been quiet so far, so Lucas had been making use of the time to flip through a few magazines looking for ideas. Finally, the bell tinkled as somebody entered the shop. Lucas dropped the magazine and sat up straight.

The customer wasted no time, pulling off his hat and approaching the counter immediately.

“Welcome to—”

“This bakery has a certain reputation,” the customer said. “Could you make a cake that looks like this?”

Lucas took the photo the man handed him. “What, the arm?” he asked. The man nodded in agreement. “It’s a bit late for a Halloween party, isn’t it?”

The customer glared at him. Okay, guess he didn’t want any chit-chat with his cake.

“Halloween cakes are a specialty of ours,” Lucas said professionally. “I assume you want the cake to be life-size?”

 

* * *

 

 

For the third day in a row, John hadn’t shown his face at the bakery. Lucas was starting to get worried. John was basically him before he’d become the co-owner of his own business and had to become responsible, and he knew that _he_ wouldn’t have missed this many days in a row without at least calling in. But maybe he was wrong, and John was a bigger flake than he’d thought.

Today he was making approximately a million tiny flowers out of icing. Not exactly his favorite kind of work, but not everybody who came into this shop wanted a cake that looked like a severed arm. Pink, flower-covered cakes paid the bills too, and at least all those little flowers didn’t take much concentration. He could do them while he waited for a customer to show up.

He was only three flowers in when he heard the bell chime. “Be right with you!” he called, and took the time to finish up the flower before he turned to greet the customer—make that customers plural, a man and a woman. The man was already looking at the possibilities, but she was waiting for him. “Wedding?”

“What? No,” she denied, and swept back her coat to reveal a badge. “Detective Jo Martinez, and this is Dr. Henry Morgan. We’re investigating the murder of John Samuels.”

Lucas fell into the chair, his knees weak. “John’s dead?” he asked weakly. “I mean, he hasn’t been in for a few days, but I thought he was just sick. Or pretending he’s sick.”

“When did you last see him?”

“Uh, three days ago I guess,” Lucas said.

“Did anything seem out of the ordinary then?”

Lucas considered the question. “No, not really. He left early, said he had to meet a guy, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for John.”

“Did he say anything else? Maybe a name?” the detective prompted.

“I don’t think so,” Lucas said.

“These are exquisite,” the doctor exclaimed, flipping through one of the bakery’s look books. “The anatomical pieces in particular.” He held up the book, displaying a brain made out of cake. The detective shuddered; Lucas took it as a compliment. “Are all of these decorated here?”

“Yeah. It’s all done in-house.”

“Your decorator has some real talent … and an eye for detail. Few people would notice these details. And I didn’t even know it was possible to render them in cake form.”

“Thanks.” Lucas practically glowed. Normally the best praise he got for the kinds of cakes he liked to make was more along the lines of _that’s so sick, I love it!_ It was nice to get some praise of this kind for more than the boring cakes, for a change. “I used to make horror films. Learned all the anatomy from that.”

“ _You_ made these?” he asked, astounded.

“Henry,” the detective interrupted before he could say anything more. “The case?”

“Right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll keep . . .” he trailed off, absorbed in the book.

Detective Martinez continued to ask her questions, dredging up every detail Lucas could remember about the last time he’d seen John. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much help. Nobody wanted to spend time talking to the boss, and these days Lucas was the boss. It still kind of weirded him out a bit.

He was trying to remember if maybe John had said a name when there was a loud thump. The book was on the floor, and Dr. Morgan was staring at his hands where it had been before he dropped it, a look of horror on his face.

“Henry!” the detective exclaimed in concern.

Dr. Morgan snatched up the book from the floor and scrambled to find a particular page. Once he found it, he thrust the book at Lucas. “You made this cake?”

Lucas looked at the picture. It was the arm cake he’d made the other day. “Yes. Why?”

“Henry, what’s going on?”

“Jo,” he said, turning the book towards her. “I found this cake on my kitchen table when I got home yesterday.”

She looked at the picture and gasped. “But that's—”

Lucas looked between them. “Okay, what’s going on? I thought that cake was for some sort of weird party.”

“ _That cake_ ,” Dr. Morgan said, “is an exact replica of my roommate’s forearm, down to the tattoo he got in Auschwitz. And somebody broke into my house to leave it on the kitchen table.”

“It’s a threat,” Detective Martinez said. “I thought your stalker was gone, Henry.”

“So did I,” he said grimly.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Lucas said. “I mean, the guy was creepy, but I didn’t think he wanted to do anything like _this_ with the cake.”


End file.
